Something Worth Fighting For
by GetLostInTheMusic
Summary: WWI has just begun when 18 year old Jayne Emilie Hanson's mother suddenly dies. Jane must now venture to London to find her long lost father, but what she doesn't expect is to find love. A Nick Jonas love story. Kind of based off of Downtown Abbey and What A Girl Wants.
1. Chapter 1

Something Worth Fighting For

August 14,1914

Tuberculosis, why didn't I see it coming sooner? The constant coughing and the red spots should have been a dead give away. I wonder if I could have saved her, but it's too late now. I am on my own. I packed up everything I could fit into my two bags. I gazed down at the paper in my hands with my only clue as to where I am supposed to go, a name.

My name is Jayne Emilie Hanson, I am 18 years old, I used to live with my recently deceased mother in Kansas. Now I am venturing off to find my long lost father. He has no idea that I even exist, but he's the only one I have left.

August 17, 1914

The trip to London was not too difficult. Though I was stopped and questioned by a kind elderly man wondering why a young lady would be heading to London by herself especially with Great Brittan just declaring war on Germany. I politely answered that someone was there waiting for me and it seemed to ease his mind. That was partially true. All I had was the name of my father. When my mother was in her twenties she stayed a summer in London with her cousin. While, there she met my father, one thing led to another and they had me. After a couple months or so, my mother had to move back home to help support her parents who were ill. My father never knew that my mother was pregnant. For some reason, which my mother withheld, my father could not leave so; my mother left with me to Kansas and never went back. When I was a young girl, she would tell me stories about him. As I grew older, she would tell me that if something should ever happen to her, I needed to find him. When my mother suddenly passed of tuberculosis, I knew it was time for me to finally find my father.


	2. Chapter 2

September 17,1914

It's been one month since I arrived in London and my search is not going anywhere. So far I have managed to come up with a list of three people by the name of Ronald Carlson, one an old carpenter, one unemployed, and one a lord. I have gone to meet the first two and was easily able to tell that they were not my fathers both were probably in their late 70's. That leaves my only option with the lord. Could my father really be a lord? I laugh at the idea. There is no way my father could be a lord, surely if he is a lord he would have supported my mother and I when we were left starving out on a farm most years. No man could be that cruel to his child. On the off hand, if he were truly a lord it would explain why he couldn't move with my mom.

I decided to try my last lead; I had already faced disappointment twice why not try a third time. It wasn't too hard to get an address. I just had to walk up to someone and ask where the Lord Ronald Carson lived. The journey to the estate however was a little harder. It was a long hour carriage ride to the village nearby. The road was uneven and I felt as though I was back on a ship during a storm.

By the time I arrived in the village it was late, the sun had just finished setting and darkness was closing in all around me. I knew I would have to complete the rest of my journey in the morning. I was walking down an alley trying to find a place to stay when I heard footsteps behind me. Being alone, in a foreign place, and the fact that it was pitch black out; I was a bundle of nerves. Cautiously, I turn around to see no one. I start walking again telling my self not to be such a scaredy cat when I hear the footsteps again. Quickly, I whip back around and still don't see anyone. As I start walking again there is a man standing right in front of me. I let out a little yelp totally taken by surprise.

"No need to scream, sweetheart." he slurred and I could smell the alcohol on his breath.

"Excuse me I have to go." I said trying to walk past him.

"Where you going?" he said grabbing my arm and whirling me back around.

"Please let me go." I pleaded the gravity of this situation setting in.

"I don't think so," he said tightening his grip. I tried to escape his grasp but he was just too strong. Here was this skinny little farm girl going up against a burly middle-aged man; I didn't stand a chance. I was able to get one good punch on him before he shoved me to the ground where I hit my head and passed out.

The next morning I awake to find the bright white lights of a hospital. I jolt up and immediately start to panic. After a minute or so the memories of the night before flood back to me. After being out cold for a couple minutes I remember partially regaining consciousness. From there it is a jumble of sounds and blurs. There is a faint memory of the man doing unspeakable things to me, me shrill scream as I withered in pain, and then the man being mysteriously thrown back by some unknown being. I couldn't see the face of my savior but I remember his strong arms as he picked me up, his kind voice telling me that everything will be all right, before I passed out again.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Hello everyone! I would like to start by thanking anyone who has been reading this so far. this is my first story on here. I plan to update this story at least once a week most likely on Thursdays. Please review and/or message me! I would love to hear from people, constructive criticism is always welcomed but please no flames. Enjoy!**

September 20, 1914

My time in the hospitable lasted three days before I was able to leave but had to be extra cautious for any more head trauma. My memories were still splotchy from the night of the attack. I spent countless hours trying to recognize my savior but I failed. Today was the day I would finally meet the man who might be my father. Would I recognize him? Would he recognize me? Probably neither as I have never seen him nor he has never seen me.

I caught a ride out of town to the estate. I stared in awe at the beautiful landscape and magnificent architecture. I saw myself spend hours roaming through the gardens or exploring new places. At the door, a gentleman by the name of Grant introduced himself as the butler. When he asked what my business was, I politely responded that I would like to speak to the Lord about family matters. He gave me a look of confusion and almost recognition as he went to fetch the Lord. I was invited to the sitting room while I was to await the Lord's presence. I was so nervous and to distract myself from the daunting task of meeting my possible family, my thoughts drifted back to the young man who saved me. I felt so safe in his arms and he obviously was a gentleman for saving me and taking me to the hospitable, but why didn't he stay?

I heard the door open and heard a voice call out, "Marianne?" My mothers name I thought to my self. I turned around to see a man is his late 40's standing there.

"No my name is Jayne," I responded politely.

"Oh I am sorry you just remind me of someone," he said with disappointment.

"But my mother was named Marianne." I added quickly.

"Really?" he asked with a tone of surprise.

"Yes, her name was Marianne but sadly she passed away recently." I replied solemnly and the man's face dropped.

"That's terrible. Oh where are my manners. I am Lord Ronald Carlson and it is a easier to meet you miss Jayne..."

"Hanson," I replied sheepishly.

"Hanson," he said lost deep in thought and rambling to himself, "and you said your mother's name was Marianne. Surely, she must have found another man, but then why would she send her child here. I thought she didn't want anything to do with me..."

"Excuse me sir," I said gaining his attention, "I believe that some explaining might help. My mother was indeed Marianne Hanson and she raised me on her parents' farm in Kansas. I lived with just my mother up until a couple months ago when she passed suddenly of tuberculosis. Before she passed, she told me to find my father, Richard Carlson, and that he would be able to help me. When I was little my mother told me stories of my father who lived in England and the story of how they met. After the funeral I packed up all my valuables, headed for London hunting for Richard Carlson, and ended up here."

"You mean to say that you think I am your father," he asked in a tone of disbelief.

"I believe so, sir." I replied timidly.

"There is only one way to see if your story was true. You say your mother spoke of how we meet. How did we first meet?"

"Both of you were wandering around London where you bumped into each other and you knocked all of the books out of my mothers hands," I said laughing to my self about the next part of the story. "She started yelling at you calling you a worthless bum and other names until she looked up and saw your face. Immediately she started to apologize while you stood there laughing at the spectacle."

"I remember that day. I had never had a woman talk to me in such a manner before. I was about to let my temper get a hold of me when I saw her beautiful face. I will never forget the look of pure shock and embarrassment," he said chuckling along. "You have the correct story and my eyes. Welcome to the family."

I smiled spread across my face. I had finally found my father.

"Of course I must introduce you to the rest of the family. We will also need a cover story; I would cause quite a stir if I suddenly claimed you as my daughter. Your mother and I were married, however temporary that was, so I don't have to worry about that though people will wonder where you came from and why I didn't claim you as my daughter till now. But for today we celebrate, you are home."


End file.
